


"Mac and Dennis Win a Bet"

by orphan_account



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Eating Disorders, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fat Shaming, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Misogyny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 05:51:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16968888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mac giggled. He fucking giggled. Staccato and high pitched, just like a teenage girl, and it made Dennis want to clamp his hands over his ears. “Me?” He said, his voice still shrill. “Me and you? Dude, you can't be serious. Why would you bet on that? I'm not gay.”Or: Mac and Dennis have a pretend, totally fake relationship to prove Dee wrong, and of course they hate every second of it.





	"Mac and Dennis Win a Bet"

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on holiday from uni and have totally been binging iasip rather than revising.
> 
> in keeping with the tone of the show, mac and dennis are just terrible people. cw for everything tagged.
> 
> also, it's not been checked for american spelling/vocab. I did my best, but feel free to point mistakes out!

It was 2.30 in the morning. Dennis and Dee were the only ones left standing in the bar. Charlie and Frank were out doing 'Project Skunk’ - Dennis hadn't listened closely to the details of that one - and Mac had got too wasted on tequila, thrown up in the ladies’ bathroom, and was now passed out on the pool table.

“Stop checking Mac out, and help me clear some of this stuff up," Dee whined.

He wasn’t checking Mac out, but Dennis couldn't help noticing that he'd really bulked up recently. And not in the fat way that made Dennis's skin crawl. He practically looked like a Greek statue nowadays. If Dennis were a lesser man, he might even feel insecure.

"Mac wishes I was checking him out," he said after a pause, although it wasn't much of a comeback.

“Ha! As if you could pull Mac.”

“Are you kidding?” Dennis pushed back against the ugly feeling that was starting to settle in his stomach. “You've gotta be kidding me, Dee. Mac's like, full-on in love with me.”

Dee snorted. “He's not!”

“He is.”

“Is not!”

Dennis stared glumly into the rum and coke he'd mixed. Normally this would be the point at which he started shouting and screaming and throwing a fit, but today Dee's teasing was managing to hit him from an opposite and somewhat depressing angle. “Mac worships the ground I tread on,” he mumbled into his drink.

“Maybe when you were like, twenty.” Dee patted his cheek condescendingly. “You've gotta admit, Dennis, you've really let yourself go.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Well, look at Mac. He's so jacked nowadays, he's spending hours at the gym - that's a man in the prime of his life. You, on the other hand…” Dee pinched him and Dennis finally slapped her hand away. “You're getting old, Dennis.”

“I am _not._ If anything, I'm out of Mac's league.”

“You've got wrinkles. And I swear you're starting to get a bit pudgy round the middle.”

Dennis resisted the urge to feel his own stomach. He knew Dee's game. He drank - and wow, there was a _lot_ more rum than coke in there - and glared at her as sourly as he could manage. He wanted to call her fat, but it wasn't even true. From this angle he could see the truly gaunt hollow of her neck, and every tendon that ran along her arms. He was almost physically jealous. “You're such a bitch,” he spat, “and I don't care what you say, Mac would kill for a chance to fuck me.”

“Sure, he'd probably pity-fuck you.”

“Not a pity-fuck! I told you, he's in fucking love with me.”

“You genuinely think he'd want a relationship with you? A cold, narcissistic bastard with wrinkles and a spare tire.”

“Of course he would!”

A calculating edge entered Dee's expression. “Fifty bucks says Mac would never want to date you, Dennis.”

“A hundred says he would.”

“Fine. One hundred.” Dee stuck her bony hand out. “It's a bet.”

Dennis shook without a moment's pause.

~*~*~

Dennis got home at 6 in the morning - leaving Mac sprawled over the pool table, that guy was way too heavy to lift - and immediately spent thirty minutes examining himself in the mirror from every angle he could contort himself into. There was no doubt about it; he _was_ getting fat. His mind flicked back to Mac’s washboard abs, and he dug his fingernails hard into his palms until the sensation passed from pain into numbness. This was fine. He would just go on a diet.

Dee was a bitch, anyway, he thought as didn’t eat breakfast. What did she know? Dennis still had his looks. He probably pulled more than the rest of the gang combined.

Mac managed to crawl back to the apartment sometime after noon. Dennis, who had now also successfully not eaten lunch, was in a terrible mood and replied with little more than grunts until Mac gave up on trying to communicate and retreated into his room. This continued all the way until the following lunchtime, when Mac reheated some pizza in the microwave and Dennis’s stomach emitted a noise so loud it could probably be heard in the apartment next door.

Mac looked up, aghast. “Dude, you seriously have to eat lunch.”

“I'm not eating fucking lunch, Mac,” he said lowly. “I'm not hungry, are you fucking deaf? I said I don't want to eat.”

“Yeah, but dude, you didn't eat yesterday either.”

“I didn't want to eat! Jesus, Mac, isn't this America? Can't a man eat when he wants to, not when his idiot roommate decides to get on his dick? What happened to freedom?”

Mac threw his hands in the air. “Whatever, bro, I just hate it when you do this fasting shit.”

“I'm putting on weight,” Dennis bit out.

“You're really not.”

“How the shit would you know? Just leave me alone, Mac, I know more about dieting than you.”

“Come on, why are you doing this?” Mac frowned, probably wracking his one brain cell for all it was worth. “Is it something Dee said again? You know she’s just trying to psych you out, bro, she’s jealous ‘cause she’s such a bird.”

“Jesus, Mac, stop it. Do you really think I’m that fucking sensitive? I’m not a chick.” He was very hungry, though. The sight of Mac shoving his face full of microwave pizza was beginning to make waves of discomfort flood his stomach. And God, the smell of it was practically heavenly. “I mean, yeah, Dee did point out that I’ve gained a few pounds. It’s cool, though. I’m in control.”

“This is what I mean, dude, Dee’s always spouting this bullshit. You look fine to me.”

Fucking Mac, with his fucking workout scheme and his metabolism that allowed him to eat whatever shit he fancied and still look like _that_ . Dennis felt almost woozy with lack of blood sugar. This was ridiculous; he used to be able to go three days without eating, and it had only been one and a half. “That’s what I was saying! In our bet. Woah, dude, the room’s getting a bit spinny.” He gave himself a second for the nausea to pass, and then tried to pick up the thread of his thoughts. “Yeah. Uh, whatever I was saying. Bets. And I told Dee that you’d totally bang me, and she said it would be a pity fuck, which, dude. That’s _so_ not true. You could date me, right Mac? Even if I was slightly overweight?”

“What,” Mac was speaking very slowly, “what precisely did you bet on?”

“That you’d date me, dickhead. And I bet a hundred bucks, which is like, all of my money. So you’d better not quit on me.”

Mac giggled. He fucking giggled. Staccato and high pitched, just like a teenage girl, and it made Dennis want to clamp his hands over his ears. “Me?” He said, his voice still shrill. “Me and you? Dude, you can't be serious. Why would you bet on that? I'm not gay.”

“I know you're not gay.”

“I'm not.”

Dennis grit his teeth in frustration. God, everything hurt. “I _know_ , Mac. But think about it. Just - get over the gay thing for a second, please? This is one hundred crisp dollar bills from Sweet Dee's bank account.”

“Uh,” Mac started at him, “I can't just ‘get over’ the gay thing. It's a sin. You know, one of those things people get sent to Hell for? You remember them, Dennis? Eternal torment?”

“We don't have to actually be gay, idiot.”

Relief settled on Mac's face. “We don't?”

“We just pretend that we're together, get Dee to fork out, and stage a amicable breakup in a few weeks’ time.”

“Well,” Mac said cautiously, “I guess that sounds alright. So long as we're not too convincing. I don't want the big man upstairs getting the wrong idea.”

“Thank fuck.”  
  
“I just have one condition.”  
  
“Okay, shoot.” Dennis would agree to anything, he was feeling so bad.

“We split the hundred bucks. And - you gotta have some of this pizza, man.”

~*~*~

They started the scheme that very evening, walking to the bar hand in hand. Mac kept glancing at their joined fingers, and then looking around the street, muscles in his neck twitching. “Dude,” he said under his breath, “I don’t get why we have to hold hands when we’re not even at the bar yet.”

“It’s called getting into character,” Dennis snapped. It wasn’t as though _he_ was enjoying this. Mac’s hand was meaty, and kind of sweaty.

“Yeah, but - what if someone I know sees me?”

“Everyone you know already hates you, Mac. Who gives a fuck if they see us holding hands.”

“Uh, that’s totally not true!”

They glared at each other, but some of the effect was muted due to the fact they were still holding hands. This issue continued once they arrived at Paddy’s. Every time they started bickering, it was a bit less heated than usual and a bit more awkward. They sat at two barstools, pushed them as close as possible, and kept holding hands. At least by now Mac had stopped sweating so much.

“This is a joke,” Dennis whispered as he downed his beer with his free hand. “I think we should have practised beforehand, we look totally unnatural.”

“Practised?” Mac pulled a face. “How can you practice holding hands?”

“Well, you know. I mean just generally. We should’ve practised being in a relationship. Dee’s gonna spot from a mile off that we’re faking, and then I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He was wrong about that, in the end. The night wore on and Dee didn’t spare them a second glance. Nobody did. Frank and Charlie were still doing their ‘Project Skunk’ thing in the basement and the smattering of regular customers were more focused on their booze than on Dennis and Mac’s linked hands. In the end, Dennis hauled their hands up onto the bar, right on display in front of everyone, and then called Dee over.

“What do you two boners want?” She snapped, not even glancing at their hands.

Dennis met her eye. “I’ll have a beer.” Then he turned to Mac. It was time to bring out the ace up his sleeve. “What about you, babe? What do you want?”

Boom. Pet names. There was no way that Dee could miss that.

Apart from that she did. “Get your own fucking drinks,” she said, still not treating them any differently or shouting _oh my god, you’re totally banging my very skinny brother who is far more attractive than me_ , or reacting in any of the ways that Dennis expected.

She strutted away to serve someone else. “Mac,” Dennis hissed under his breath, “she’s not noticing.”

Mac threw his free hand up in the air. “I know bro, Dee's so dumb.”

“She has to fucking notice, or else all of this has been for nothing.”

“Well, what should we do?”

“I don't know. Oh, shuffle a bit closer to me, man.”

“I'm practically on top of you already.”

“Closer!”

Mac scowled. “I'm not sitting in your lap, Dennis.”

“You're not seriously still hung up on the gay thing, are you? It's all just an act. It's not real! God doesn't give a shit, we've established this.”

“I know that,” he huffed, “I just think you should be the one sitting in my lap.”

“What?”

Mac gestured at himself. “I'm way more beefy than you, dude. I would clearly be the top in this relationship.”

Dennis snorted. “Oh, no way. I'm taller.”

“I'm like, bulky, Dennis. I’m the top.”

“No way. Besides, I'm the most sexually experienced. You should definitely be sitting in my lap. Like a trophy boy, okay?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“See,” Dennis sighed, “this is why I told you we need to practice more. No one’s gonna buy our relationship if we can’t even decide who the top is. That’s like, an incredibly important part of gay culture. Real gay dudes wouldn’t even have to argue about it. They’d just automatically know.”

Mac just shrugged and stopped trying to pull Dennis onto his knee. “Whatever. The barstool probably couldn’t take both our weights, anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Now you’re calling me fat, too?”

“No!”

In the end, they left early, ignoring Dee’s squawking about helping her clear up, and it was only once they got back to the apartment that Dennis realised they’d kept holding hands for the whole walk.

~*~*~

They key, Dennis decided, was practice.

Dee needed to have their relationship shoved in her face. She needed to see how real it was. And that was how Dennis now found himself straddling Mac’s lap at two in the afternoon, on their ratty old couch, passionately making out in the name of ‘practice’. Mac was a surprisingly good kisser. Over the years of living together, Dennis had _seen_ him kissing plenty of times, and always thought he looked unrefined and a bit sloppy. Like a dog drooling all over some poor girl’s face.

On the receiving end, it was a bit different. Dennis found himself a bit too caught up in the moment to critique how much tongue Mac was using. Mac’s hands were warm and braced on his hip bones, while Dennis was shamelessly taking the opportunity to feel up Mac’s abs and the fleshy muscles that ran up his sides, circling the contours as though he was counting them.

Then Dennis shifted his position and felt how hard Mac was getting. Instinctively, he ground down slightly harder and began biting at Mac’s neck. He was just licking at the corner of Mac’s jaw when he heard his throat rumble and he said “Dennis, stop.”

Dennis broke away in frustration. “What?”

“Bro, this is getting a bit gay.”

“Uh, no.” Unamused, Dennis shoved at Mac's (very solid) shoulder. “We're two straight dudes, what's gay about that? Two straight dudes, secure in their heterosexuality, platonically kissing so they can dunk on some stupid chick. It doesn't get more manly than that.”

“Yeah, but you've gotta admit that two dudes making out is pretty gay.”

“Why are you saying this, Mac? Do you _want_ it to be gay?”

“No!” He reared back even further. “Of course I don't want it to be gay.”

“So stop over-analysing it and kiss me.”

Mac looked conflicted for a second. He had such big, dumb eyes and his lips were all swollen in a way that made Dennis want to hurry things along and just kiss him again, but he knew that would probably be a bad idea, so he amused himself watching the fluttering of Mac's eyelashes. There was a shiny trail of saliva running along his neck. Mac breathed very deeply. In, out. After a few seconds, he met Dennis's eyes, and slowly tilted their heads back together.

~*~*~

“Deandra Reynolds,” he said as he entered the bar, “you owe me one hundred bucks.”

Dee didn’t look amused. “Right. Sure. Oh, I totally believe that, Dennis.”

“It’s not really up for debate. You were wrong. I’m not fat, Mac is still hopelessly attracted to me, and we’re dating now.” He held his hands out. What could he do? He was just too irresistible.

Yeah, he probably should’ve waited until Mac was here too, but Dennis had a plan. If he went to Dee alone, he wouldn’t have to split the cash with Mac. And if Mac didn’t know that the bet was over, and if him and Mac had to keep holding hands, and doing all the other gay shit - maybe that wouldn’t be the end of the world. So he'd sneaked out while Mac was at the gym. But it all depended on Dee forking out and not being a bitch, which, now Dennis thought about it, was pretty unlikely.

“I don’t believe you for a second.” She announced. “Maybe you’ve bribed Mac into acting the part, but there’s no way he’s started dating you in the last few days. Even _you_ couldn’t drag him out of the closet that easily.”

“Uh, I could and I did. You’ve seen the evidence, Dee, what more do you need? You want me and Mac to make out in front of you, huh?” He could probably arrange that.

“Ew, no. Besides, there’s no point. You’re cheating, Dennis. It’s pathetically obvious. Absolutely nothing you say now is gonna convince me otherwise.” She smiled at him smugly, as though she was saying something profound rather than going back on their deal.

“Well. It seems we’ve reached an impasse, Dee.”

“It does. I want Frank to judge.”

“Oh no,” Dennis growled, “we are not getting Frank involved in this.”

“Involved in what?” To his dismay, Dennis looked up and found Frank walking in through the door. Dee almost lit up with delight. “Dennis cheated,” she said in a sing-song voice

“Cheated at what, Deandra, I ain't got all day.”

Dennis peered under the table. Frank had one of those carry-cases that people brought to the vet, although through the opaque plastic Dennis couldn't see its contents. “That better not be a skunk,” he said.

Frank shrugged. “Maybe it is.”

Dee shrieked and bolted to the other side of the room.

“You can't bring a fucking skunk into the bar!” Although he was much more dignified than Dee, Dennis also started backing off. “That's a health and safety violation, they have diseases. Not to mention it'll smell like shit.”

“Since when do you care about health and safety?”

“Since you brought a fucking skunk in here!”

“Easy, easy.” As he walked, Frank swung the case slightly and both Dee and Dennis flinched back. “Jesus, look at both of you pussies. It's just a skunk. Kinda like a cat, only it smells worse.”

“Just get rid of it, Frank.”

“Me and Charlie got plans for this thing! We told you about Project Skunk ages ago, Dennis -”

“Well, you can't do it in here -”

“We're going to the basement. Christ. The skunk is secure. Who died and made you sole owner of the bar?”

Dee seemed to have recovered from her shock, and pounced on the anti-Dennis sentiment that was beginning to rise. “He tried to cheat me out of a hundred bucks, too,” she insisted. “Him and Mac pretended to be gay.”

“We weren't pretending. Frank, she has absolutely no evidence that we were faking. Me and Mac are in a legitimate relationship.”

“Bullshit!”

“You just can't handle being wrong -”

“I say it's bullshit, Dennis, because literally nothing about how you and Mac act has changed.”

“We hold hands! He was practically sitting in my lap last night!”

“Yeah, as if you two aren't ridiculously handsy at the best of times.”

Dennis scrapped his brain for proof. Admittedly, most of the gay stuff had being going on in the privacy of their own home. “Uh, we called each other ‘baby’?”

“Wow,” Dee said snidely. “Admit it, asshole, you're frauds.”

“Well, what's your proof, huh? How are you gonna prove we're _not_ dating?”

“Aw, shut the hell up, both of you.” The edge of panic in Frank's voice made them both look up from squabbling. “I need to focus, alright?”

“We're kinda in the middle of something,” Dee complained.

“I don't give a shit, Deandra, because the motherfucking skunk's got loose. Charile!” he bellowed, "Charlie, get up here, that fucking skunk's escaped."

For a moment, everyone was silent.

“Frank,” Dennis said very slowly, “what do you mean, the skunk's got loose? I thought the skunk was in that cage. You told me the skunk was secure. Literally one minute ago.”

“It's not my fault, this lock must be broken -”

Mac burst through the doors. Great, the whole gang was here. “Mac, I thought you were going to the gym,” Dennis said with as much patience as he could summon, which wasn't much. “What the fuck do you need?”

“I got bored, dude.”

“Well, we're kind of having a situation right now.”

“Close the door,” Frank interrupted, “the skunk might escape!”

“Skunk?”

“Gentlemen!” The high-pitched wail of Dee's voice cut through their bickering like a very sharp and very painful knife. She really wasn't going easy on the high notes. “I don't care about whatever rodents are in, or escaping from, the bar. Dennis owes me a hundred bucks. I want you all to witness this moment and agree that he owes me.”

Mac scowled. “Uh, I'm pretty sure that you owe me and Dennis, not the other way round. We're totally in a badass relationship right now.”

“No, you're not.”

“We are,” Dennis backed Mac up.

Dee raised a single eyebrow. “So, you're in a _gay_ relationship? Does that mean you're _gay_ , Mac?”

Instantly, the expression on Mac's face closed off. “Uh,” he said. “Uh, well. It's. Well, I'm not -”

And just like that, Dennis could see all his hard work going down the drain. He was not going to lose a hundred dollars just because Mac was so far in the closet he'd cut off his own nose if he thought it was gay. Dennis had to act. He sprung over to Mac and, before the other man had a chance to protest, wrapped his arms around his shoulders and kissed him square on the mouth.

It was a bit like their practices, apart from much more awkward due to the weird angle, and the audience - Dee made a strangled noise of disgust in the background - and because at first Mac wasn't kissing back, just making a sort of confused noise. Then a second passed and Mac did kiss back. And it was kind of hot. Very hot. Hot enough for Dennis to lose himself in the moment, and maybe go a bit weak in the knees, and he forgot that Mac wasn't leant against anything and with a dramatic stumble both of them fell backwards, Mac letting out a decidedly non-badass shriek. They landed in a pile of mostly cardboard boxes, and something furry that hissed. Dennis just had time to say “oh shit” before a black and white striped tail went up and both him and Mac were sprayed with the most concentrated, noxious liquid he'd ever smelled outside of Charlie's apartment.

~*~*~

On the grounds that neither side could prove whether Dennis and Mac's relationship was genuine, Frank declared their bet void and then took the skunk to do God-knows-what down in the basement. Mac was kicked out onto the sidewalk. Dee tried to kick Dennis out too - “you both stink!” she had yelled - but he was feeling like shit and needed a drink. Dee sat as far away as possible, glowering at him.

“This is all your fault,” Dennis told her sharply. He was feeling miserable and the smell hanging around him was putrid. “Don't feel too sorry for yourself.”

“How is any of this my fault?”

“Uh, you were the one who started our stupid bet. You said I was too fat and old for Mac to find attractive, remember?” He took a long swig of the beer. “I’ve proved that wrong.”

“Yeah, genius, no shit.”

“What?”

Dee shrugged. “I kinda knew this was gonna happen, bro. Well - I wanted those hundred bucks. And the skunk was a surprise. But other than that, this has all gone just as I expected.”

“But.’ Dennis gaped at her. “You called me fat. You said Mac could never love me.” He felt his voice rise in volume. “The whole point of this scheme was to prove you wrong!”

“For fuck's sake, you idiot, you look like a beanpole and Mac's obsessed with your skinny ass.” For someone revealing that she was actually a supervillain, Dee looked surprisingly calm. “I just said that shit because I was pissed off. Everyone knows you're sensitive about your weight. You're like a teenage girl.”

“You're such a bitch, Dee,” he said without much heat.

“Whatever. You're literally making me gag. Please just go home, and take Mac with you.”

Mac was still stood on the sidewalk, and he still smelled of skunk, which was not getting any better with exposure. It was like a rotten egg, but way more intense. Passers-by were giving him a wide berth. “Hey, man,” he muttered when he saw Dennis.

“Hey.”

“So, we're back to normal, right?”

“Don't be needy, Mac,” he grumbled. “Yeah. We're back to normal.”

The stared at each other for a long second. Strangely, Dennis had the urge to take Mac's hand. It would probably be warm - the chill of the night air was getting to him - and there was something reassuring about feeling Mac's skin against his own. He didn't do it, of course. The scheme was over.

Mac was staring at him, too. Probably thinking the same thoughts. Probably wanting the exact same thing. There was an irony to that, Dennis thought as he broke their eye contact and began marching back home, but he couldn't quite pin it down.

**Author's Note:**

> chekov's skunk: if a skunk scheme is introduced in the first act, by the third act someone should be stinky.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this!!!!! my tumblr is xenixat.


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